Year of the cock. 1969.

The Mythosaur skull I'm working on has a little H.R. Giger (early years), a little steampunk, a little goth Chinese new year rooster, because that's my Chinese zodiac symbol, year of the rooster. Year of the cock. I know what you're thinking. Ha. No. I'm drawing a rooster. I promise. Not even the younger me would do such a thing.

It is so much easier for men to find women after 50 years of age, then it is for women to find men. I'll be 51 years old in eighteen days and all I can say is, my wants in life have never changed. I just want to make my art, have a few cats, maybe a small dog, a house by some water, and hang out with my friends. But this is never enough for men. It's never enough. Not that I blame them. Men always want what I can't give them.

I'm going to be one of those scrawny super skinny little old ladies. Old people either get super fat or super skinny. I'm going to be super skinny. On the plus side I didn't get my period this month. Hooray. For the past three years I have not gotten my period in the month of December. Only December. Strange. Four more years and I should stop getting my period all together. Hooray! Finally! Of course I'll die the following day.

The 1990 movie, Vincent & Theo, is me and Aramis. Great movie. I love Tim Roth. He needs to be in more movies.

https://youtu.be/6iZx3vuKXnI

Aramis is the only man I talk art with who doesn't bore me or drive me crazy. He's more of a brother to me than my own brothers who I decisively no longer speak to. Not since our dad died.

Even trying to find a NYE date, for the past three months, is useless. I knew it would be. It's really easy for me to get turned off. All he has to do is say something I find annoying and I'm done. Out.

God bless the internet. David Coverdale is my new favorite person to follow on Twitter. He has that English charm. I'm rather certain he's much fun to hang out with. So much fun.

Miso stray cat does not come around that much anymore. He found a new home to Netflix and chill at in an apartment across the street. They're feeding him very well too, something he likes better than my wet/dry cat food because he is now ten pounds fatter pleasantly plump. A whole lotta fluff! But that's good. I don't have to worry about him in the middle of the night when it's below freezing out. I know he's safe.

Anyway.

Back to drawing. 

No matter how much I draw my artist friends are kicking my ass. But I can't stop. Won't stop. Challenge accepted!

I should go out this weekend. Be social. But I know I won't. I have drawings to make. Text me. I'm around.

Yay hockey season! I'm back in. L.A. Kings! It's funny to me how much these Las Vegas shitkicker locals, you know who I'm talking about, they hate Californians, but love the Vegas Golden Knights, with such loyalty, buuuuut none of their hockey players are from Las Vegas, many of them aren't even American. D'oh!

Know why?

KNOW WHY?

Because Vegas is in the fucking desert.

I love educating Vegas locals on the history of Vegas. You know, not many people were actually born and raised here.

Know why?

KNOW WHY?

Because it's the fucking desert!

Until casinos came very, very few people even lived out here. Never mind born and raised. Mostly fugitives wanted for murder, or so I'm guessing!

So much internet drama with hockey and TROS 😂 My Star Wars shirt is vintage. I've had it for a while now. At this point my tee shirt is worth more money than my art. True story, Aramis. Or should I say Theo.